WoW - Rise of the Dark Pandaren
by ViciousMuppet
Summary: The Horde and Alliance have to fight together to defend Azeroth from the tyranny of the Dark Pandaren.


**CHAPTER ONE**

**STORMWIND – FIFTEEN YEARS LATER**

The clock chimed midnight. That wasn't good.

"I have to go, Thurn!" I said with anxiety.

"Wait – Joss!" Thurn cried, as I hauled myself off the bench outside the Lion's Pride Inn.

"What?" I exclaimed, "I have to go!"

"At least finish your pint," my Dwarven friend replied "Finest Dwarven Ale in all the land, I'm tellin' ya!"

"Have mine," I said, then hurried down the lane through Elwynn Forest.

As I was running, I took time to look around. I looked into the night sky, and watched my breath rise from my mouth.

It was freezing cold, and I was in no mood to get shouted at by my parents… those who know who my parents are will know why.

I reached Stormwind, and ran round the outer wall; I didn't want to go through the front entrance – if you know who I am, you'll know I would draw too much attention to myself.

I carried on running until I found an area where the wall had all but crumbled. Scaffolding and planks of wood were propped up against it where Gnomes had been rebuilding – but Gnomes never finish jobs. I climbed up an old rusty ladder, onto a piece of scaffolding, then ran across a plank before jumping onto a railing.

From the railing, I shuffled, until I was perched, teetering on the very end. I closed my eyes, and hoped against hope I would make the jump, then leapt into the air.

Those few seconds in the air are the tensest few seconds of my life. I sailed towards the tower wall, with outstretched hands. Falling…falling…falling…_success_!

I managed to grab onto the ledge of a window. I hung there, dangling from the windowsill, then hitched my legs up, and pushed the window open, before rolling through into my bedroom.

I lay there, face down on the wooden plank floor, breathing heavily – relieved. If my parents had caught me still out at midnight, they would have probably been insanely-

"Angry!" a voice cracked like a whip through the room "I am so angry!"

Dreading what I would find, I rolled over so I was leaning on my back. My mother was standing in my doorway, staring down at me with eyes as cold as a Dark Pandaren.

"Thurn," I blurred "It was Thurn, he told me to up stay late – stay up late!" I was mixing up words in my panic

"_Oh, _likely story, Joss Rokenfeild!" my mother raged "I was about to call the royal guard – me and your father were about to go searching for you in the middle of the night. We would have woken the whole of Stormwind up!"

"Just because you're the King and Queen of Stormwind doesn't mean you would have woken the whole of Stormwind up because you went out in the middle of the night…" I said, sheepishly.

"What about you?" my Father's booming voice filled the room "You're the Prince! You're meant to be setting a good example!"

My Father looked very different from my mother. While my mother had very pointy features, and curly-mad brown hair with bright blue eyes, my father had perfectly combed hair, with dark eyes that seemed to judge your every move, and a beaked nose.

I looked more like my mother than my father, admittedly. I had fluffy brown hair, with massive blue eyes, and bushy eyebrows. Apparently my eyebrows are like my mothers hair.

"No one would've seen me dad," I said

"Maybe not any people!" my father bellowed "But what if there were Dark Pandaren about, 'eh?"

"You know the Dark Pandaren live above Ashenvale Forest on a turtle or whatever the stories say," I retorted

"They're not stories!" my mother said, indignantly.

"Your mother fought there – and if it weren't for her, Dark Pandaren could be patrolling Stormwind. So pay her a little respect!" father backed her up, then, putting an arm over my mothers shoulder, he guided her out, and, with one more deathly look, closed my door and locked it behind him.

I lay back on my bed, thinking.

It was true my mother had fought Dark Pandaren and survived. It's typical for most human boys my age to have warrior fathers, and homely mothers – but I have it the other way round.

My father may be fiercer with his words, but when it comes to fighting, my mother is the one who could take out an entire army.

In fact, I was born on the day the Dark Pandaren came to this world.

According to the stories, the Dark Pandaren made a massive push, and took Azeroth that day. Obviously, that is true - as most of Azeroth lives under the strict rule of the Dark Pandaren, accept some areas they have not been able to claim. I think there are three areas now:

Ironforge (the Dwarven city), The Echo Isles (the only remaining area in Kalimdor) and Stormwind (The human capital city – where I live…and where I may rule)

Ironforge and Stormwind have both tightened their defences to a major degree – as these are the only remaining places not ruled over, they are both excepting a Dark Pandaren invasion. My mother, father and the rest of the humans (along with some Dwarves) are protecting Stormwind, the Dwarves and Gnomes are protecting Ironforge, and the Trolls and Orcs are savagely guarding the Lost Isles, meanwhile other races seek refuge wherever they can.

According to my mother, before the Dark Pandaren invaded, the Alliance and Horde fought each other, but since they invaded, the Alliance and Horde have had to band together into, what the humans call, the Dalliance Hero (an anagram for Alliance Horde)

As I thought about this, my complicated thoughts wavered into the nonsense of dreams, and I fell into a deep sleep.

My eyes opened groggily, as I adjusted to the sudden flare of light shining through my window. I propped myself up on my elbows, then flopped back down, as I remembered last night, and my parents anger at me.

I rolled onto my front – face pressed into the pillow. I was dreading going downstairs.

When I finally did manage to pluck up the courage, I got out of bed, got dressed as slowly as possible, and then tried my door. It was unlocked. Tentatively, I opened it. I heard voices downstairs, but couldn't make out what they were saying. I walked out onto the landing, then crept down the spiral staircase towards the kitchen.

When my feet did reach the cold, cobbled floor of the kitchen, I found my mother and father sitting at the table with, to my great surprise, a Troll.

"Er…" I began, but my mother silenced me.

"Joss," she said, "This is Tabaki,"

"What's he doing here?" I asked.

My mother and father seemed to have forgotten about the argument last night, so something big must have happened.

"I bringin' grave newses," Tabaki said, in his heavy Troll accent.

"What news?" I asked

"Da Lost Ilses," Tabaki replied "We has lost 'em now! We has lost dem to da Dark Pandaren, mon!"

I sat at the table, shocked.

"What!?" I exclaimed "No!"

"I'm afraid so," my father said grimly,

"And what's worse," my mother added "It means Stormwind is to be attacked next!"

"Ya' gana has ta gear up pretty quick, mon," Tabaki perked up.

I sat there for a while and thought.

"Where are all the Trolls and Orcs?" I asked, after a few seconds

"Ah, dey scattered around, mon," Tabaki explained, "Some in Stormwind, some in Ironforge, ya' know?"

"How was it lost?" I asked

"Ah," Tabaki hung his head. "Dey overwhelmed us, mon. Too many."

I looked from my mother to my father to Tabaki, then blurted out five words:

"I'm going for a walk,"

Elwynn Forest is an extremely tranquil location (compared to the rest of Azeroth these days) and one that I didn't get to fully experience the night before.

For example, I never paid attention to the Squirrels or the Birds, or the livestock that was kept in paddocks – playfully walking around minding their own simple lives. A farmer waved at me from his little house as I walked by.

I waved back, smiling, and continued down the grubby cobbled path. I really did wish I could be a farmer like them – a simple man, with not much to his name, but a peaceful family life that he is perfectly competent with. I didn't want to be burdened with the task of becoming the next king of Stormwind and leading an attack on the Dark Pandarens.

In fact, there was nothing special about me at all. I wasn't the now dead leader of the gnomes High Tinker Mekkatourque, who died bravely in battle protecting his people. I wasn't a great and powerful Draenei leader like the Prophet Velen – I wasn't even a great orc mage who charged into battle lovingly!

I was a normal, young, human warrior – and I was in way over my head.

After a while, I reached Goldshire: a little collection of houses forming a village a short ways away from the gates of Stormwind. Usually people smiled and eagerly waved at their prince (which I hated) but today there was a melancholy mood about the place. The best I got was a nod. The news must have traveled like wildfire – and rightfully so.

I gave the Gryphon master a week smile as I walked past him, then came to the doorway of the Lions Pride Inn.

The night before at the inn had been so simple – I thought my life was over because my parents were going to shout at me, not because we were a losing a war we could never win against an almighty race, and Stormwind was next to be attacked.

I sat down in my usual place next to the fire, pulling up a wooden chair. A glum waitress shuffled up to me, and asked:

"Order, your highness?"

"I've told you a thousand times," I said "You don't need to call me that – only when my parents are around," then I gave her a smile.

"Order, _Joss_," she smiled back

"Same as always," I replied: "Slice of moist cornbread and a cup of thistle tea," then I added: "Can't go wrong with cornbread,"

Suddenly, my chair creaked and sagged dramatically, and Thurn as down next to me.

"Slice 'a' Dwarven mild, and cup 'a' Dwarven ale, love," he said in his strong Dwarven accent.

The waitress walked away, towards the bar.

"Hear the news?" I asked Thurn.

"Yeah," the stout Dwarf replied grimly.

Thurn was two years older than me (that would make him seventeen) but considerably larger. He had been raised in the cold, harsh snows of Dun Morogh in an old shack, by warrior parents, and was a paladin. He had a rather big, red nose and a massive ginger beard, (Dwarves grow facial hair at an alarming rate compared to other races) with a shaggy green robe which he kept wrapped around him – that was the only warmth he liked to give himself, as he believed the cold made him tougher.

"Me' mam and dad say they're really tightening up defenses at Ironforge," he added.

Thurn and his family had left Dun Morogh when he was fourteen, (due to the Dark Pandaren invasion) and his parents took refuge in Ironforge, while he came to Stormwind to seek out a job.

"They shouldn't be," I said "_My_ mother says Stormwind is going to be attacked next,"

"Aaaah, they've been sayin' that for years!" Thurn swatted away my compliment like an annoying swarm of moths.

I looked down at the table with worry, as the waitress returned with our orders. Thurn took his and finished it in about two minutes, while I couldn't eat – I was too busy being lost in thought.


End file.
